Lovely Likoma

Teaching the local kids to be sun smart

If it weren't for the scorpion-spiders, I could have easily kicked off my sandals and settled into a lakeside hammock on Likoma Island for the rest of my life. Plunging into the lake at 7am each morning, a giant mug of coffee and two slices of French toast for breakfast, devouring books, magazines, travel guides, in and out of swim suits, walking to town, buying giant avocados and miniature bananas, games of cribbage and bao, waiting for the sun to set, the placid water reflecting the painted sky and finally the stars. We were initially concerned that we'd grow restless on tiny Likoma, sick of the set menu and sand between our toes, but after a week we learned that it's pretty hard to get bored in paradise – especially with spider-scorpions scuttling around your toes.

Hands down, the most comfortable beach chairs in the world.

Scott developed a bit of a posse of local boys during our stay. Being flung into the water was one of their favourite activities.

We call this one the Jesus, for obvious reasons.

Likoma lies a few kilometres off the Mozambican shore, about halfway up Lake Malawi – known as the Calendar Lake for measuring 365 kilometers long, 52 kilometers at its widest point, with 12 estuaries flowing into it. The island's only link to the mainland (besides dug-out canoes and local fishing dhows – neither of which have a great safety record) is the ancient, battered, but undoubtedly enduring Ilala ferry, which covers the Monkey Bay to Chilumba route once a week in either direction.

The mighty MV Ilala, running a mere 3 hours behind schedule at the time of boarding.

We boarded the Ilala at Chipoka, and purchased two first class deck tickets, which meant we'd be spending the night in the open (blissful under a blanket of stars or freezing under a thin cotton sarong, depending how you look at it). Downstairs, the economy deck was dense with farmers, traders, children, crates of empty bottles, bags of maize and cassava, basins of fish, furniture, clothing and chickens. The steamer is very much the lifeline of the lake and I couldn't help but wonder what would happen if the boat were to break down or be taken out of service for any length of time. Given its age (it was assembled with parts from Scotland in the 1950s) this doesn't seem too far-fetched.

Apparently, on another sailing, they played "My Heart Will Go On" on repeat throughout the night. Probably not the best song selection given the fact that the the Ilala only has two operational life boats and was without a doubt exceeding its capacity.

Twenty-four hours later, the Ilala pulled into Chipyela Bay, Likoma Island. As there is no jetty and the water in the bay is too shallow, passengers and goods must be loaded and offloaded in the lifeboats. There's a lot of yelling and pushing and throwing, and I'm sure even if I did understand Chichewa, I would find the whole process chaotic. The boats are designed to carry a maximum of 22 passengers, but the Ilala crew seem to regard this as a bare minimum, and only when rounded out with several dozen sacks of maize and cement mix. By the time the boat is 'full' and the boatman points it towards shore, there's usually mere inches inches of clearance from the water.

One of Likoma's slogans is “Turn your watch ahead one hour and back a hundred years,” and stepping onto the beach, you feel as though you are discovering a strange and exotic land that has remained unaffected by the passage of time or the proliferation of technology. Notably, Likoma is the last place on earth with a single-digit telephone system and until recently, the only vehicle on the island was the hospital ambulance.

But Likoma's main claim to fame is its cathedral – a building as impressive as it is out of place. Built by Scottish missionaries in the early 1900's on a site previously used to burn witches, the church served as the headquarters of the Anglican Church of Malawi until 1940. It is a grand and beautifully constructed building, featuring intricate stained-glass windows, carved wooden pillars and pews, and a crucifix made from the wood of the tree beneath which Livingstone's heart is buried.

Unfortunately, we arrived on Likoma a few weeks late – mango season had just ended. The beach where we stayed was lined with mango trees, which (had they been bearing fruit when we visited) may have canceled out the scorpion-spider issue and convinced me to put down my roots for good. But there were no mangoes to be had, and the scorpion-spiders proved to be a menace I could not imagine contending with long-term.

Our beach hut teeming with scorpion-spiders

I really have been making progress with my fear of all things that creep, crawl and slither – I recently watched a man put a snake in his mouth and didn't cry, vomit, or run screaming from the scene – but scorpion-spiders? Scorpion-spiders are a whole new breed of terrifying. Like almost any animal that evokes human fear, they are ten times as afraid of you as you are of them. They are less than one hundredth your size and you can squash them with your sandal. They are virtually harmless to humans. And still... and still. When you have to go pee as many times during the night as I do, the stress of crossing the floor in the dark is too much for one woman to bear. More than once, I made Scott get up and run around the room scaring them into the corners so I could dash outside to relieve myself. I mean, LOOK AT THIS THING. If that doesn't make you whimper and recoil in fear, nothing will.

Simply horrifying

Well, except maybe this.

Scott shaved his beard! Fortunately, the end result is much more attractive than these in-progress shots, and I'm very pleased to report that my boyfriend's face is back and better than ever. However, it's good to know that he can pull off the hillbilly look, should circumstances ever demand it.

Each day on Likoma was much like the one that preceded it and like the one that followed. There were no surprises, nothing that really merited a letter home or a blog post. We went snorkeling. We drank a lot of Coke and Fanta. We played cards. We ate, breathed and slept. And yet it was one of the most memorable parts of the trip for me thus far. It was just so... nice. I probably couldn't come up with a blander, less meaningful way of putting it than that – nice is what you say about something that there's nothing else to say about – but for me that's what it was: nice. Just nice. And when it comes down to it, not even the scorpion-spiders can detract from this view.